


Operation: Make Sure Bro-Bro Doesn't Die Alone

by Burnt_Wine



Category: Gravity Falls, ParaNorman (2012)
Genre: But not that much, Ghost!Mabel, I swear Mabel being dead won't be that depressing, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Norman has a vlog, Still sorta new to this, cute fluff, i'll add more later, probably sometimes, sort of like Dead Files or Ghost Adventurers but better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-12-24 21:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12020937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burnt_Wine/pseuds/Burnt_Wine
Summary: Mabel was a great sister. Like the BEST. And what does the BEST sister in the world do for her brother? Make sure he doesn't die alone.OrNorman and Neil travel across the country filming their paranormal findings and happen to come across Gravity falls.





	1. A Little Town Called Gravity Falls

It was not abnormal for Norman to wake up in the middle of the night, vision blurry, throat sore, and silently cursing whoever dared wake him from his slumber. Majority of the time, however, his tormentor was of the dead sort and not his sister who decided to call him at 2 in the morning. 

With a sigh and a sleepy rub of his eye, Norman sluggishly reached over to pick up his cellphone from its resting spot on his nightstand. “ ‘Ello?” he managed to slip in through a great yawn.

“Normy, I got great news!” Courtney practically squealed. 

Okay, don’t get him wrong, Norman definitely appreciated the positive relationship he had with his sister; the pleasant conversations they shared were nice from time to time, and if he ever needed help in a pinch, he knew she would be there (zombies were good for something for once). On the other hand, he did not appreciate her disturbing his already slim sleeping schedule just for her to screech in his ear like some sort of chipmunk-banshee hybrid. Not one bit. 

He croaked out a clipped, “What?” hoping his irritation and sleep-depravity would taint his tone enough for his sister to know not to do this again. 

Norman could practically hear her exaggerated eye-roll as she replied, “Don’t give me that, Norman. I just thought you’d want to know about a paranormal-infested town as soon as I caught whiff of it.” Oh, and now he could see the smug smirk across her lips as she then stated, “That’s what you wanted me to do, right? Suggest new towns for your little ‘show’ to seek out.”

Oh yes, how could he ever forget that mistake? After the whole zombie/witch incident, Norman became somewhat of a celebrity in his town, several articles and interviews dedicated to him. It wasn’t until he reached his late teens, however, that he utilized that brush with fame in order to create a website that not only offered his assistance in paranormal pests but featured his very own vlog where he and Neil (his trusty companion and cameraman) traveled around helping ghost-burdened clients and researching supposedly haunted areas. In short, it was like Dead Files, but not as grave. 

Norman let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, but can you send me the details via email? Text? Letter? Something that doesn’t require being awake at this current moment.”

“‘Course,” Courtney responded with a curt laugh. “I just wanted to call you. I have to annoy you when I can, don’t I? I am the big sister, after all.”

Norman glared at the expanse in front of him, imagining it was his sister’s infuriating face. “Just hope I don’t remember this during our next meeting.”

“What are you going to do? Send a zombie army after me?” There was a shout from the other line. “Welp, gotta go,” Courtney’s voice sounded rushed, hurried. “Don’t get possessed, Normy.”

The line went dead before Norman’s breathy “bye” made it passed his lips. He set his phone back on his night stand before flopping dramatically back on his bead. Norman lay there for a moment, staring blankly at the dark abyss ahead of him, the static fuzz of nothing burning his ears and fresh ideas whirling around in his head. 

After a few more moments, he grimaced, launched himself out of bed, snatched his laptop, and flipped it open, frantically searching for the email-text-letter-thing that his sister was bound to have sent by now. 

True enough, a notification glared at him when he opened his inbox, a new email waiting there for him to open it. That he did. His eyes lit up as he mouthed the words, “Gravity Falls.” 

Neil would be happy to know that Norman was kind enough to wait until a proper time in the morning (9:00 on the dot) to enthusiastically inform him over phone about the town. Norman, on the other hand, did not get a wink of sleep, but it was perfectly fine. After all, who needed sleep? He sure didn’t.

 

Okay, Norman was lying to himself prior when he decided sleep was for the weak. Turns out he is very weak and very much so in dire need of some shut eye. Luckily for him, Neil did get sleep that night (courtesy of Norman) and was more than willing to start out the journey on driving duty. Now, both Neil and Norman made plenty of money doing their obscure jobs (not to mention the funds they received many books they had already published about the paranormal), so flying out to Oregon would not have been a problem at all. Driving was simply their preference and had been since the beginning. 

They didn’t have to deal with airports, renting vehicles, losing luggage, and their hearse (Neil refused to get a van considering their profession) could easily sport an air mattress in the back; the two boys had gone through enough “sleep overs” to honestly not care about sharing a bed even if Neil often hogged it. 

Sure, it took a few days, but the journey was more than worth it when they saw the pleasant little sign that bore the words “Welcome to Gravity Falls!”

“So, where should we head first, Norman?” Neil asked, happily humming along to the song on the radio, taking a small moment to glance over at his spiky-haired friend. As soon as he asked, his stomach let out a ferocious roar.

Norman laughed. “Maybe we should find something to eat. We might even ask some locals about the sites while we’re there.”

There was pink staining his cheeks as he nodded in agreement. “I think there’s a diner up the road.”

Their waitress was a tad unsettling in appearance, one of her eyes looking practically dead, but she seemed kind enough, taking the two’s orders with a warm smile. As she left, a chill raced up Norman’s spine, erecting all of the hairs on his body. Now, in all of the years Norman has been alive, he knows one thing by heart: the sensation of a spirit near-by. His pale eyes skimmed across the diner before focusing on a man.

He was roughly around Norman’s age (or at least appeared so), yet was on the short-stocky side instead of Norman’s tall-lanky self. Worn hunting hat was shoved on his head, a few strands of curly hair slipping out. There were rather large bags underneath his eyes, though Norman didn’t expect him to sleep well with that ghost hanging all over him. 

She appeared to be in her teens with long hair and a festive sweater unfortunately weighed down with what looked to be water. Norman guessed her death was most likely caused by drowning. Fortunately, her modern apparel did not support any theories of her being a suspected witch that ended up drowning to test their morality. 

The male’s eyes darted right at Norman, causing the medium to quickly look away and his cheeks to heat up uncomfortably. 

“Are you okay?” Neil asked in a hushed tone, eyebrows crinkled with worry. “Did you see something?”

“Nothing big,” Norman hastily replied. The girl did not look malevolent and it was not uncommon to see spirits casually walking about. It wasn’t even unusual for a spirit to be connect to a living being; she was most likely an old friend or family member that simply didn’t wish to leave him alone (that was what his grandmother had done, after all). He might approach them after their meal, see if the girl was really as harmless as she seemed. 

To Norman’s dismay, the male and his spirit companion sat in the booth next to them. The girl was comfortably chattering along, inserting suggestions such as: “Hey, Dippin’ Dot, you should totes get pancakes,” “Ooo, put whip cream on it,” “And sprinkles! Like all the sprinkles,” “And glitter! I bet Lazy Susan still has my stash!” Norman didn’t really pay much mind to the comments. They didn’t seem negative and appeared to be nothing more than one bugging their sibling. 

Norman’s ear did perk up, however, when he heard a male voice reply, “Mabes, for the last time, I am not eating glitter.” He could hear her? 

“But then you’d be beautiful on the inside, bro-bro!” She then cackled. “Just kidding! Your only problem is that body odor. And your horrible fashion-sense.”

“Hey!”

His outburst was momentarily delayed by Lazy Suzan (wasn’t it?). “The usual?”

“You know it, Lazy Susan.”

So they were local, Norman concluded. Neil stared at him anxiously. Norman quickly waved his hand in front of his neck, telling him he couldn’t discuss it at that exact moment. He didn’t want to alert the siblings (the spirit did call him “bro-bro”). 

The two made sure they lingered after the siblings, asking Lazy Susan, “Who was in the booth behind them?”

Lazy Susan offered a grin before telling them, “That was Dipper. You can find him at the Mystery Shack.” She then offered them a “wink.” “He’s our paranormal expert.”

Norman and Neil turned to face each other at the same time, both grinning widely with one through running through their heads: Time to go to the Mystery Shack.


	2. A Day in the Life of Dipper Pines

Dipper was having one of those days.

Okay, days where he is practically dead on his feet because insomnia sucks are quite frequent, so perhaps he should be saying he is “not having one of those days,” ‘cause when does he actually sleep?

The world may never know.

Anyway, Dipper had been woken up by a cool, tingly sensation prodding his cheek, a sensation he has long since recognized as Mabel’s finger. A groan bellowed out of his mouth as he slowly awoke, raising out of his bed much like the undead would. He scratched at his head, running his fingers through the knots rather than actually picking up a brush, and sloppily got ready for the day. 

You’d think after a decade of not being able to get a full night’s sleep he’d be used to this by now, but no, alas, he was not. Instead, he slumped downstairs and into the kitchen where he poured himself a large cup of energy (commonly known as “coffee”) and gradually woke up.

“Ooo, can we head down to Greasy’s Diner today, Dip?” Mabel requested. 

Dipper quietly nodded his head, staring down into his mug. He had given up long ago on trying to see his sister. It turned out that certain people only had certain senses aware of spirits. Although he could both see and hear that old couple in the convenience store (Dipper guessed it was because they were much stronger spirits than what Mabel was), he could only hear Mabel . . . and could only do so in Gravity Falls. Still, he could usually tell where his twin was at almost all times. Mabel was never really one to be quiet, after all. 

Once his mug was empty, Mabel promptly shoved him out of the shack. He gave a small wave to Soos and Melody who were wowing tourists (and graciously allowing him to stay in the shack they technically owned). 

The trip to the diner was quite uneventful. To Dipper, that is. Mabel on the other hand, had a different opinion. 

“Did you see that cutie in the booth next to us?” she practically squealed. Dipper guessed she was to the left of him due to the fact he just became deaf out of that ear. “He was so checking you out!”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Mm-hm,” he sarcastically agreed. 

Mabel tsked. “Oh, come on, Dipper! Normal people don’t just stare at someone for 49 seconds for no reason!” He rolled his eyes once more. “Come on, Dipper! You’re not horrible looking; you are my sibling, after all. Some of my hotness must have rubbed off on you.”

The male sighed, ruffling his hair underneath his hat before slapping it back on. He pushed open the shack doors, relieving Melody from the cash register and allowing her to take on another round of tours. The attractions had expanded over the years, meaning two different tours could go on at the same time and not meet each other once. While Dipper still worked at the shack and was often Soos’s business partner in many ways, he preferred cash-register duty over tours. Those sucked balls. 8-balls, to be specific.

“Not interested Mabel,” Dipper replied, shutting the door on the conversation. 

Dipper had the feeling she was rolling her eyes, but other than that, she dropped the occasion. 

Not too long into his shift, the door opened, triggering the little bell and alerting Dipper to begin his spewl of “Welcome to the Mystery Shack!” 

He nearly choked in the middle, however, because Mabel, being the darling sister she was, decided to excitedly hit Dipper’s arm, shouting, “It’s the guy!”

Indeed, it was “the guy.” What “guy”? You may ask. The “cute” guy from the diner. The “cute” guy from the diner that currently had a nervous smile on his lips and a heavy-set ginger waiting behind him with an encouraging grin. 

“Uh, hi?” he spoke with a shy wave. He coughed, pulling a card out of his pocket and presenting it to Dipper. “I’m Norman Babcock, uh, medium.” The boy’s blue eyes shifted towards Mabel’s shining face. “And this is Neil. I heard about the strange happenings in Gravity Falls, and I came here to find out more.” 

Neil took over from there, eagerly adding, “We heard from the lady at the diner you were the town’s paranormal expert.”

Dipper stared at the two, mouth dry. It wasn’t the first time outsiders had asked about his “paranormal-prowess.” After a couple minutes of silence, his eloquent response was, “I-uh. I don’t do that anymore.”

Mabel blew a raspberry. “Oh come on! A cute boy practically falls into your lap and you’re just going to shoo him away with a ‘I don’t do that anymore.’” She spoke the last bit in a mockingly deep voice that cracked halfway through.

Norman’s face flushed deeply while Dipper snapped, “Mabel!” He then glanced at the medium’s red cheeks, his own growing warm. “You heard that, didn’t you?”

A small bob of his head confirmed that, yes, Norman just witnessed his twin sister’s embarrassing antics. 

Dipper groaned, pulling his hat as far over his face as he could, grumbling, “I should have let Bill kill me when I had the chance.”

Mabel, however, was positively glowing by the news. “Look, bro-bro! Someone else can hear me!” She waved ecstatically at the medium before abruptly stopping. “Oops, sorry. You probably can’t see that.”

Norman shook his head. “I could.”

If Mabel was glowing before, she was practically on fire by this point. “We found ourselves a good medium. Someone can actually see me! For once!” She then shook her brother’s shoulders (though Dipper didn’t actually move, but could feel her energy touching him). “You have to show him around, Dip-dip! It’ll be fun!”

Dipper grunted once more, aware that Mabel was doing her best puppy-dog-eyes and fully aware that he was going to cave. Fixing his hat upon his head, he let out a crushed, “Fine,” before explaining that he would be free later that night and could talk “paranormal” (as Mabel said) to them.

Dipper sincerely wished he didn’t regret this, but by the way Norman’s face lit up, Mabel knew for a fact he wouldn’t.


	3. The Two Paranormal Nerds

Until the determined meeting time, Normal and Neil took the opportunity to check out their equipment (which included a couple cameras, several batteries, and a healthy supply of salt and holy water just to be safe) before seeing whatever sites they could.

When they met up at the Mystery Shack, there was an unpleasant grimace staining Dipper’s face, much unlike the shining grin on Mabel’s lips as she cavorted around, arms flailing about.

Norman offered a slight wave while Neil’s more along the lines of Mabel’s enthusiastic greeting (luckily all of his gear was safely in a duffle bag and not in his hand). “I was wondering if we could film our discussion,” Norman hesitantly suggested.

Dipper perked an eyebrow, frown not moving from his lips. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Norman keeps a vlog of all of his findings. It’s like a journal,” Neil responded, pulling a camera out of his bag and pointing towards it.

“Uhmmm.” There was an unsettled look on Dipper’s face, eyebrows scrunched and teeth biting a hole in his bottom lip.

Norman offered a small smile. “We won’t put anything up that you don’t approve of. I know that this can be a touchy subject for some.”

Dipper let out a sigh. “Fine, but I have a couple of ground rules before we get started.” He raised an index finger. “Stay by my side at all times. No exceptions.” Another finger raised. “What I say, goes. If I say to be quiet, be quiet. If I say run, run.” Another. “If something happens to me, run. Follow the lit stones back to the shack. Do not come back for me.” After Mabel’s incident, Dipper installed glowing stones (that strangely glowed even in the lightest of days) following the safest path out of the forest just in case.

“We good?”

Both Norman and Neil confirmed their agreement. They could easily follow a few measly rules if it meant they received invaluable information. “Alright!” Neil cheered. “Let’s fire this puppy up!” He held up the camera, directing it at Norman’s face. “In 3, 2 . . .” His 1 was silent, a mere indication through a simple finger-gun.

At the signal, Norman smiled and waved, welcoming his viewers, “Hey, it’s Norman Babcock with ‘On the Paranorman Side.’” Norman gestured towards Dipper behind him, who then offered a small nod. “I’m here with Gravity Fall’s very own paranormal expert Dipper. He and his sister Mabel-”

“Can we not mention Mabel?” Dipper suddenly interjected.

Norman’s eyebrows twitched in confusion for a moment before nodding in understanding; not everyone wants to parade around their dead sister. The two then restarted the opening, continuing on without any hiccups.

“So, before we embark on our journey,” Norman spoke, sitting quite awkwardly in the Mystery Shack kitchen, “could we ask you a few questions?”

Dipper nodded his head, which was slumped against his hand.

A smile made it’s way on Norman’s lips. “When did you first find yourself facing the paranormal?”

“My sister-” Dipper paused a moment to lubricate his suddenly dry mouth. His voice then continued to croak out, “My sister and I came here to Gravity Falls when we were twelve to stay with our Grunkle Stan over the summer. Grunkle is Great-uncle.” He licked his lips. “It wasn’t long before we were chased through the woods by angry gnomes-”

Norman couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of his mouth. “Sorry, sorry.” He wiped a tear from his eye (he was surprised Neil managed to keep his composure, but the cameraman had honed his skills of maintaining his poise; shaky cameras were not a good thing). “How did that happen?”

A grin cracked across Dipper’s face. “It all started with Mabel’s vow to have a summer romance . . .”

 

The two did not do any actual adventuring that day; instead, they swapped stories of paranormal encounters. Neil had given up on being the cameraman after a while, simply placing the camera on the table at an angle where it would still capture the two boys utterly enthralled in their conversation. He switched the cameras out every so often when one got low on batteries.

Since he was no longer tied up with the two paranormal nerds effectively geeking it out, he spent his time getting to know Mabel. Now, although Neil honestly believes it would be absolutely tubular, he was not a medium, so he could not properly speak with Mabel. Despite this, Mabel’s spirit was strong enough to slightly influence her surroundings and Neil was very versed in morse code.

Thus, the two sat (well, Mabel more hovered) on the sofa, exchanging pleasantries such as “How are you liking Gravity Falls?”, “What’s your favorite color?”, “How do you feel about glitter?”, and “Can you help me set up Dipper and Norman?”

Neil choked on air with that last one. “What do you mean ‘set them up’?” he exclaimed; well, whisper-yelled (Dipper and Norman were not too far away, after all).

The eyeroll was clear in her response: “They are like made for each other, duh!”

Neil gave her general direction a skeptical look. “Now, I’m all for my bestie being happy, but I don’t know if a relationship would do that. He’s never really looked for one, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was aromantic."

“Okay, romance too soon. Help me with their budding friendship?”

Neil hummed for a moment before grinning. “I think I can manage that. Norman was pretty stoked about having someone else that has actually had experience in the field. Most are posers.”

“Do we have a deal?”

Neil nodded his head, curly hair bouncing. “Deal.” He held out his arm, a tingling cold enveloping his outstretched hand. Surprisingly, blue flames did not spark around their intertwined hands.

 

Dipper was recounting the tale of the “Wax-Stan Murder Mystery,” when a growl erupted from Norman’s stomach. Dipper’s eyes widened, Norman flushing. “Sorry,” he apologized, “I’ve been talking my head off. Do you, uh, want to get something to eat?” Dipper pointed a thumb towards the stove. “I make pretty mean fettuccine alfredo.”

Norman stood straight up, holding his hands up in a surrender position. “No, I don’t want to impose-”

“It’s no problem!” Mabel burst in, replying for Dipper who already had his mouth open, prepared to talk.

“Come on, Norman,” Neil chipped in. “How many times do we get a home-cooked meal?”

Norman fiddled with his hands. “Well, if you don’t mind . . .”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mind. Besides, I just wasted all your time with silly stories instead of showing you the ‘wonders’ Gravity Falls has to offer,” Dipper confirmed with a modest grin.

“We could always meet up again?” the medium suggested.

A warm smile burst on Dipper’s lips, a slight twinkle in his eyes. It was nice having someone else around that appreciates the odder side of life (or rather death). “That sounds-”

“FANTABULOUS!” Mabel interjected in a boisterous, sing-songy tone.

Dipper mustered a glare in her general direction, but it soon melted into cordial chuckles, everyone else following suit in his laughs. He supposed it would be rather fantabulous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, let me know if you want me to draw pictures for this (I dabble in visual art as well as writing)!


	4. The Pros and Cons of Being a Walking Spirit Board

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought since I hadn't updated in quite some time (I'm sorry), I would include doodles I did of how I see the characters!
> 
> https://dontgobreakingmyart.tumblr.com/post/167985356726/doodles-for-my-pararpines-fanfiction-dont-mind
> 
> We'll see if this works. *fingers crossed*
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like the chapter!

One would think that since the paranormal activity (at least in the immediate area surrounding him) was rather calm, Norman would be able to sleep properly. Yet here he was, awkwardly squished against the side of the hearse and glaring at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers Neil insisted on decorating the ceiling with. He could always play on his phone, he supposed; it wasn’t like Neil was a light sleeper and would wake to the gleam of the phone. Norman scrunched his nose. That as an option, sure, but not one he favored. After a few more minutes of contemplation, Norman pushed his way out of the corner Neil had driven him into, procured his phone and spare keys (didn’t want to be locked out), slipped on his hoodie and shoes, and ventured out into the brisk night. 

Neil and Norman had parked in an old parking lot somewhat into town and as he was quite sure he recalled, near a park of some sorts. He supposed it would be better to stare up into actual stars rather than cheap plastic ones. Finding a nice patch of grass, which was soft and plush not dry and scratchy, he laid down, arms splayed out and nose pointed up. 

A soft sigh escaped his lips. 

A brush-like sound entered his ears. He jolted up, eyes wide, frantic. Tension left him when his eyes found a familiar figure. 

“Uhhh, hey?” Dipper spoke, cheeks flushed from the cold. 

Norman offered a smile. “Hi. Couldn’t sleep?”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Insomnia’s fun.”

“Trust me, I know.” Norman then added as an afterthought. “Though usually don’t have a problem falling asleep, just staying undisturbed enough to get more than an hour.”

Dipper took a seat on the grass next to Norman, plucking blades out of the ground automatically. “Problems of being a medium I suppose. I couldn’t imagine what that’s like.”

Norman cracked a tired smile. “Like having at least 20 Mabels bugging you at once, but you can see them too.”

Dipper winced, awkward chuckle spilling from his lips. “Sounds rough, buddy.”

“There are pros to it,” Norman admitted. “Never truly alone, I suppose.” He sighed, returning back to his laying position. 

“Hmmm.” Dipper joined him, kicking back and staring up at the heavens. After a few moments, he whispered, “So how’s Mabel? Does . . .” He licked his lips. “Does she look . . . bad?” He faced Norman’s conflicted face.

A pale eye flickered towards the anxious twin. “Well,” he started, but died quickly. He took in a deep breath, contorting his face. “Well, I’ve seen much worse.”

Dipper started, pushing himself up on his hands and leaning towards Norman. “What do you mean?” he demanded. “Is she okay?”

Norman closed his eyes. “Generally, spirits have the tendency to reflect the last mo-moments of their lives.” He opened them, yet avoided Dipper’s gaze. “Your sister . . .” 

Dipper looked at him expectantly.

Norman took a deep breath, trying to formulate his sentence in the least offensive way possible, attempting to approach the painful subject of death as if it were a casual musing of the day. “Your sister’s death-death had to water, didn’t it.” Although it was technically a question, he didn’t phrase it as such.

Dipper’s eyes fell. “Yes, it-it did.”

Norman rose to a sitting position, offering a compassionate smile and a touch of reassurance in the form of a hand on his shoulder. “She-she doesn’t look bad,” he attempted. “I have yet to see something other than an award-winning smile on her face.”

A dry chuckle left Dipper’s lips as he cracked a sour smile. “Yeah, she was good for that.” He dubiously met Norman’s caring eyes. They remained like that for a few moments, staring into each other’s eyes, each pursuing a wordless connection that they couldn’t quite adjoin yet. Dipper was the one to break the interaction, ducking his head down with a poorly-faked cough. 

“Make sure you wear something comfortable tomorrow.” He stood up, brushing the stray blades of grass off him. “We’re going on a hike. 9 am sharp.” He turned away, prepared to take a step, but halted, spun back around and shot a diffident grin in Norman’s direction (who instantly responded with one of his soft smiles) before rotating once more and leaving, curt wave of the hand signalling his departure. 

Once the disjointed twin was far enough, Norman’s smile drop and was replaced with a sudden release of air he wasn’t aware he was holding. Glancing once more at the sky, Norman got up himself and retreated to the hearse. 

He snorted. Comfortable clothes? What did Dipper think he packed? A tux?

 

Despite the fact Norman got about zero sleep, he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 7:30. Neil had already been up for about an hour or so and had taken it upon himself to scout for food, a lukewarm breakfast waiting for Norman when he slowly blinked out of slumber. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Neil asked, checking over his equipment (it had become a bit of a habit of his to do so as frequently as he could as paranormal entities had the tendency to tamper with it, and it was vital for everything to be present and in working order). 

Norman yawned, stretching as much as he could in the back of a hearse, before responding in a slurred tone, “Hiking with Dipper. Nine.”

Neil nodded his head. “Sounds good.” He waved the to-go bag in Norman’s face. “All the better to not skip breakfast, you savage.” Norman had gotten into the habit of forgoing breakfast in lieu of work or whatever other excuses the medium had thrown at his friend over the years, so Neil was determined to see that his friend ate three decent meals a day. Contact with spirits can take a lot out of a guy, thank you very much, and Neil didn’t need Norman passing out on him again. 

By 8:30 they were on the road, and by ten till nine, they were at the Mystery Shack. From the driveway, Dipper could be seen leaning against the front of the house, large mug of coffee drawn to his face. He looked up when the car parked, nodded his head in greeting. 

Neil burst from the passenger side, waving enthusiastically, tote of gear slung over his shoulder. Norman emerged from the other side in a much quieter fashion, face coloring as the prior night flooded back into the forefront of his mind. 

Dipper smirked. “I said nine, not ten minutes before.”

“No, you said ‘sharp,’” Norman retorted. “Would you rather us be late? I could always drive away and come back at exactly 9:01 for you.”

“Dipper, stop being a grump,” Mabel lectured. She turned towards Norman with her normal grin. “Don’t mind him, Norm; he’s a grouch before he’s had his full dose of caffeine.” She then paused, pondering on the subject. “Actually,” she added, “he’s always a grouch, just a worse one without coffee.” Next, she suddenly embraced Dipper, the force causing him to sway slightly, but nothing that caused any consequences other than an amused eyeroll. “But we love him nonetheless!”

Dipper tipped his head back, downing the rest of his coffee before setting the mug down and checking his watch. 9:00. “Time to go.” 

Mabel skipped after him, while the two paranormal bloggers shared a glance before shrugging and following after themselves.


	5. On the Paranorman Side

“Good morning, it’s Norman Babcock here bringing you another edition of ‘On the Paranorman Side.’” 

The camera then shifted from solely focusing on Norman to including Dipper standing stiffly in the background. 

“Once again, we are joined by Gravity Falls’ very own expert of the unknown Dipper Pines.” 

It then focused on Dipper who scratched the back of his head, muttering a small “hi” before continuing their journey. 

“So, I thought we’d start small today,” Dipper began as they trekked the woods. “I know you’ve dealt with weird things, but Gravity Falls is a completely different brand of weird.”

“What do you mean ‘small’?” Neil asked. Although he was rarely in the shot himself, it was not abnormal to hear his commentary in the final film. In fact, it was rather common. 

“Well, there are lots of dangerous things in this forest, but there are some more benign attractions,” Dipper explained.

They pulled into a rather open clearing, organic rings decorating the grass.

“Are those . . . ?” Norman’s voice trailed off, unsure about his knowledge and not really up to making a fool of himself in front of Dipper (as well as his audience, of course, he added as an afterthought). 

Dipper nodded his head, taking a shot at what Norman intended. “Yep, these are fairy rings. According to myth, it is believed that fairies like to dance around these circles, and they can serve as portals to their realm.” He then pulled out a bottle of syrup. Noticing Norman’s face contort in confusion, he then explained, “Fairies are much like most insects when it comes to their diet―at least these ones―and the sweet syrup will lure them out.” He then cracked a grin, staring at the camera while glancing at Norman. “They’re quite shy.”

Neil focused the camera on the rings as Dipper poured the sticky concoction around the halos. Mabel was lying right in front of the rings, head cradled between her hands and legs kicking lively into the air. A smile slipped onto Norman’s face at the sight.

“―orman!”

Norman’s head snapped up. Heat coated his cheeks. “Sorry, I got distracted.” Just as he was about to inquire what he had missed, a sparkle of something fluttered around his face, brushing against his nose and making him go cross-eyed. 

Neil, the experienced and skilled cameraman he was, automatically centered his attention on his friend, doing his best not to giggle as Norman sneezed. A flurry of glimmering orbs dispersed throughout the air, drifting like embers on a cold night. Norman’s eyes lit up as his attention flitted from one to another. 

“Where―How―” Norman whirled around to face Dipper, who had a barely noticeable smile on his lips. “When did you discover this?”

Dipper shrugged, looking down and fiddling with his hat. “My great uncle had been really invested in the supernatural as well. He recorded his findings, which I found my first summer here. He wrote of these in there and . . . next thing you know, I’m covered in fairies.” A sad note tainted his previously amused expression. Mabel always liked the fairies; he had no doubt whatsoever that she was currently frolocking with them, grin on her shining face. 

Heeding Dipper’s sudden shift, Norman faced the camera, showcasing his wide, “camera” grin. “I’m afraid that’s it for today’s episode. This was Norman from ‘On the Paranorman side’ with Neil as our faithful cameraman and Dipper as our honored guest.” He offered a slight wave. “See you next time!”

Neil ended the shot, turning off his camera and putting it away.

While his friend did that, Norman turned towards Dipper awkwardly shuffling about. “Wanna grab some lunch? My treat for doing this.” He then hesitantly added, “I know it can’t be easy―”

“Easy what?” Dipper snapped. “Revisiting the very forest that ripped my sister away from me?” His tone was harsh, clipped, heavy. 

Norman stumbled back, mouth hung open and throat dry.

“Dipper!” Mabel reprimanded, swatting Dipper’s arm. “He’s just being nice! You don’t have to be such an ass!”

Dipper grimaced, pulling his head down over his face. “Not now, Mabel,” he snarled.

“Why not?” she challenged.

“I should go,” Norman stuttered, gesturing behind him and taking a subconscious step back.

“No,” Mabel bit. “Dipper needs to get over this, accept this, and telling someone else is the quickest way.”

“But not the best way,” Norman argued firmly. “I understand you want you brother to be happy, Mabel, I really do.” He placed a gentle hand “on” Mabel’s shoulder. “But everyone grieves differently. Dipper needs to do it his way, and if it hurts him so much to be here right now, then he should go home.” He flashed Dipper an atoning smile. “I’m sorry.” He then turned on his heal, Neil stiffly standing with his gear all packed up.

When the two paranormal investigators left, Mabel stormed off deep into the forest, Dipper cluelessly returning to the shack, dead twin supposedly following after.

 

Later that night, Norman and Neil sat in the only place they could find with free wifi: the library. Norman didn’t really have a problem with that, especially since the librarian was nice and allowed them to eat in there as long as they promised they wouldn’t damage any books (considering the fact they weren’t there to read, avoiding harm to library property wasn’t exactly difficult).

Although Neil was the cameraman, Norman was technically the more tech-savvy of the two and was the designated editor of their show. During this process, Neil was emotional support (as well as the bringer of snacks). 

“Norman, what’s that buzzing sound?” Neil looked all around him, squinting. “Is there a fly?”

“Phone,” was Norman’s blunt reply, eyes still glued to the laptop screen and mouse still clicking away. 

Neil searched for his mobile device which was completely silent. “It’s yours.”

“Hmm?”

Neil rolled his eyes, retrieving Norman’s phone from his jacket pocket and answering it just before it went to voicemail. “Hi, this is Norman’s phone, Neil speaking.”

“Neil?” The voice was frantic and very Dipperish. “Can you put Norman on?”

Neil frowned, but did so, handing the phone over to Norman. “Hello,” Norman absent-mindedly greeted.

He jumped when he heard Dipper practically screech, “Mabel’s missing!”

“What? What do you mean missing?”

“I haven’t heard her for hours. She’s not one to be quiet,” Dipper then rambled on like the worried sibling he was, only stopping when Norman interrupted him.

“Dipper, when did you hear her last?” Norman asked, cool as a cucumber (and internally irked; after all, this was the man that just blew up on him, yet here he is, bugging Norman when he was busy). 

Dipper grew silent. He then muttered, “When we were fighting.”

“Now, is it normal for Mabel to ignore you when she’s upset?”

“Yes.”

Norman bit back a sigh. “There you go. I’m sure she’ll come back in a bit when she’s calmed down, okay?”

“Ye-yeah.” Silence. “Sorry.” 

Norman didn’t quite know if he was referring to earlier or the call or perhaps both. Norman was being optimistic and was hoping it was all of the above. He hummed in reply.

Dipper hung up.


	6. The Lake in the Woods

Dipper knew Mabel like the back of his hand; her favorite color, her favorite song, what keeps her up at night, what color and shape of glitter she prefers in her Mabel Juice. That means that he also knows how she acts when she’s upset: she generally finds a reclusive place to run away to before stuffing her head underneath one of her large sweaters where she blocks out the entire world until she deems fit (or until Dipper coaxes her out of it). These visits to Sweater Town typically lasted an hour or two (the longest that Dipper could recall was when her boyfriend of two years broke up with her where she spent an extended sojourn for about four days). 

After the fifth day of Mabel being MIA, Dipper got worried. Like more worried than usual. He had already called Norman, the poor soul he had scared off and unfortunately the only person that could actually see Mabel. Dipper had been anxiously stalking the streets when he noticed the familiar herse and the very familiar redhead leaning against the hood of the vehicle.

“Neil!” he blurted without thought.

Said male whipped his head around to locate the source, eyes widening when he caught glimpse of the disheveled Dipper. “Dipper? How’s it going? I heard Mabel was . . .” He trailed off, not quite knowing if the subject was sensitive.

Dipper swallowed what felt like a handful of tacks. “She’s still--she’s still gone.”

“Do you need help finding her?” he asked with a concerned tone. “I’m sure Norman would be more than happy to help.”

“No!” he interjected, voice cracking.

It was too late, for Neil had already called over Norman (who had just exited the store they were parked by). It took little convincing, just a mere mentioning of the situation, before Norman had set off on a ghost hunt.

“Norman, you really don’t have to be doing this!” Dipper insisted, heat cumulating under his skin. 

Norman flashed a small smile, but his eyes were dead serious. “You need my help. I’m a medium; it’s what I do. Now, do you have any idea where she might be?”

Dipper frowned and before he could stop himself he snapped out, “If I knew, she wouldn’t be lost!”

Any normal person would have immediately flashed to anger and most likely would have stormed off for the hot-tempered twin to find his own sister, thank you very much. But Norman (despite his name) was not a normal person. Instead, he simply stopped in front of Dipper, placed two hands firmly on the twin’s shoulders, and spoke in a calm voice, “ Dipper, look at me.”

He hesitantly did do, eyes not wishing to meet the face of the man he’d just affronted.

“Breath in through your nose.” He did so. “1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . Now out through your mouth.” A quivering stream left Dipper’s lips. “Now, repeat . . . 1 . . 2 . . .” After about seven reps, Dipper’s breathing was relatively steady, the flushed hue on his face had faded, and he was no longer bouncing with anxiety. Norman smiled. “Now, where have you looked thus far?”

“Ev-everywhere.” His voice was small, broken. 

“Are you sure?” Norman didn’t want to provoke another meltdown, but he’s run into a lot of clients that said they looked everywhere, did everything, and they always missed that one little place, that one little task. 

He stood there for a moment, trying to ignore the people passing by them, little flashed of people, slowly closing in, noise strangling his throat, sickening his stomach, spinning everything around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and around and . . .

“Don’t forget to breath.”

There was a soft pressure on his shoulders. Norman. Dipper took in a deep breath. Then, it clicked. The forest. His head snapped up.

“The forest!” he shouted. 

“Okay, did you want to check there?”

“That-that’s the only place she could be,” Dipper explained.

Norman nodded his head. “Then we’ll go look. Neil! Hold fort, mah main man!”

Neil replied with a curt, “Got it, bro!”

“Lead the way.”

And Dipper did.

 

The small amount of the forest that Norman had seen was utterly breathtaking, quiet, serene, magical. Not simply because of the fact it was supposedly filled with magical creatures generally only mentioned in myths, but because it was one of the few spots that Norman didn’t see anything.

No matter where he went, the dead followed, and although he was sure this forest has seen its share of victims, he has yet to see any evidence of it. That is, until they reached the heart. 

If he were poetic (or was as good as writing as his publisher claimed he was), Norman probably would have described this section of the forest as a field of broken hands branching out of the dead ground in order to claw at the sky with their sharp talons or some BS like that. Norman was not poetic. In fact, this particular patch of woods reminded him exactly of Mirkwood in the Hobbit movies. 

Dipper had migrated towards Norman the further they progressed. When Norman mentioned it, he responded with a slightly flustered, “I don’t want you to get lost.” Norman had a sneaking suspicion that wasn’t the real reason, but didn’t prod it.

Because of their closeness, Norman could hear Dipper’s breath hitch when they came to a murky lake. Norman was tempted to ask him if he was okay, but thought against it. And that was when he heard sobbing, very faint sobbing. 

Norman gently grasped Dipper’s wrist and tugged him closer to the water line. Dipper yanked him back. “Don’t go!”

Norman scrunched his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“It-it’s not safe.”

Norman raised his hands in defeat and allowed Dipper to guide him to a safer location. “Mabel! It’s Norman!” he shouted, hoping said twin would hear him. “We want to know if you’re okay!”

His voice rang out for a bit, filling the dead air. A chilled breeze ran up Norman’s spine. He knew that feeling, that tingling of the body. His eyes snapped wide as his grip on Dipper’s wrist (though it was closer to his hand at this point) tightened. 

“What’s going on?” Dipper tentatively asked.

The ground shook and quivered, like the head of a timpani being heavily struck by mallets . . . THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

Ripples formed in the dark water, sloshing and splashing up on the lakeshore, giant mass slowly rising from the depths. 

At this point, the thumping of Norman’s own heart overpowered whatever supernatural poundings there were.

It stared at him. With it’s glowing eyes and sludge-dripping mouth. It loomed over the two of them, sharp claws outstretched. 

It was a good thing that Dipper wasn’t gifted with eyes of sight.

It had a sweater on, bleeding star.

It was Mabel.


	7. The Spirit Named Mabel

Out of all of the years that Norman has dealt with ghosts, nothing has ever topped his run-in with Aggie, his original adventure. Now that he was staring at a very demonized-Mabel, he might just have a new topic for a book. If this didn’t kill him, that is.

With a deep breath, Norman pushed down any fears he might have and took a step forward, ignoring Dipper’s concerned demands. “Mabel.” His voice wasn’t particularly loud, but wasn’t soft either. 

The spirit leaned down, demented face hovering a mere foot from him. “Mabel,” he repeated, “what’s wrong?”

It said nothing. 

“I can only help you if you help me.”

“NO ONE CAN HELP ME.” The disembodied voice was shrill and ear-shattering. 

“Yes I can. I have helped many before you, and I can help you.”

“NO ONE CAN HELP ME.”

“I once met a girl,” he started, “I didn’t know her long, but I could tell she could light up any room she walked into.”

“THERE IS NO LIGHT.”

He ignored it. “She welcomed everyone with a warm and open heart. There aren’t many people like that anymore.”

“SHE WAS A FOOL.”

“And she loved her brother dearly, that you could tell.”

“HE IS DEAD TO HER.”

“And he loved her dearly. In fact, he’s a nervous wreck without her.”

“THEN WHY DIDN’T HE SAVE ME. WHY DID HE LET ME DIE. WHY DID HE RUIN MY LIFE. HE DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING GOING FOR HIM. HE WASN’T LOVED. NO ONE WOULD MISS HIM. I HAD A LIFE, FRIENDS, A BOYFRIEND, AN ACTUAL CAREER. WHY WASN’T IT HIM.”

Norman heard a choked sob behind him. He turned to find Dipper, head shot down and hands balled into fists so tight, his tanned hands were white. “I ask myself that question everyday.” He lifted his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Why did it have to be her? I know she was the favorite; she always has been. And I don’t blame them. Mabel was great. She was bubbly and cheerful and artistic and fun and everything that I’m not.” His voice quivered every so often, and even broke, but it chugged along.

“And you’re not Mabel! Mabel had her moments where she was vain or selfish but she never would have blamed me for her death!”

The spirit was silent. And then it cracked its mouth open. And booming laughter filled the forest. 

It then faded, sinking back into the waters from whence it came, light returning to the forest.

Norman placed a hand on Dipper’s still shoulder. “Are you-” Norman was cut off by a hug, nose tucked into his shoulder and wet dampening his shirt. Norman returned it, rubbing the twin’s back like he would when he would comfort his sister or Neil. 

Then, a third party joined the embrace. “DIP ‘N DOT!”

 

“I’d like to . . . uh . . . continue working with you, if the offer is still open.” 

The three had retreated back to the Mystery Shack, Dipper making celebratory Stan-cakes (they weren’t as bland as the original, but they were close enough) and Mabel trying to add glitter to the batter as she always did. 

Norman grinned, nodding his head. “I’d love it.”

“You should totes give Norman your number, Dip'n Sauce!” Mabel cheerfully suggested, wiggling her eyebrows and nudging her brother. 

Dipper sent her a half-hearted glare, hoping no one would notice how he suddenly began avoiding looking at the medium.

Norman let out a chuckle. “Actually, he should already have my number.”

An astonished “What?” left both of the sibling’s mouths. 

“I gave you my card, didn’t I? It should have my number on it.” He then added, “Well, one of my numbers on it. I can give you my personal one if you’d like.”

“Yes he wil--”

“Mabel!” Dipper shrieked. Norman fought back a laugh, instead smiling. Dipper then turned towards Norman, flustered coloring decorating his cheeks. “I-I would like your number though. I think I lost the card, that’s all.”

Nobody needed to know that Dipper immediately put Norman’s number into his phone. Or that Norman’s contact name was affectionately “Normal Man.” Or that Dipper absentmindedly caressed the little slip of paper that Norman had given him before he went to bed that night.

And Neil didn’t say anything about the rather cheery Norman that returned to him. Like that one time he had a crush sophomore year of high school on some girl and she kissed his cheek (unfortunately she had moved away a couple of weeks later). Nope. He didn’t say one thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I would LOVE your opinion on what I'm writing! So PLEASE, feel free to leave a comment voicing your opinion! Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story! (And don't get tired of my excessive use of exclamation marks!)


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